I Once Was Lost
by RiverSong DreamShadow
Summary: Between Sirius' death and the prophecy hanging over his head, Harry spends the summer jaded and apathetic. He doesn't know what to do until a gleaming white Companion Chooses him and begins to help him heal. Version 2.0 of No Longer Alone!
1. Prologue: A Peek Into the Future

**This is the new Version of No Longer Alone, a crossover between Harry Potter and Valdemar. If you want to read the previous version, you can, but it will have little bearing on this story, apart from sharing a similar-ish plot-line. And so, on to the Prologue!**

The forest was filled with life, that night. The beasts of the earth were filled with peace and remained undisturbed as a small group of humans traversed an un-beaten path. The birds sang as if to welcome the travelers home.

A short young man with black hair led the group of six along the trail. He and all the others but one rode astride gleaming white horses with intelligent blue eyes. The one who did not was also the only one not dressed in a white uniform; she rode a beautiful chestnut, and her uniform was a calming green. The group chatted and laughed as they travelled, and it was obvious to their observer that they were all great friends.

The observer lost sight of the group as the youth in the lead suddenly turned off of the path to follow a near-invisible deer trail, and the others quickly fell silent and followed him. They soon came out of the forest to a large hill in a clearing. The group dismounted their steeds, and left them to graze as the climbed to the top of the hill. The view from the hilltop was spectacular; a person could see a panorama of the forest on either side of them, and directly ahead stood a magnificent castle.

"It's been a long time since we were home." The youth said, breaking the silence that had descended upon the group since it had left the path. "I had missed this place so much, but now... I almost dread returning. We are all very different from when we left."

The red-headed young woman at his side touched his shoulder. "Yes, we are all different. We have all changed, and those who used to know us well will find that we are not the same people they once knew. This is when we will find out who our real friends of this world are; they will accept us as we are, accept the different people we have become. I suspect many students will have a hard time with that." She turned to the blond youth on her other side. "You two will, I think, have the hardest time of us all."

The blond snorted. "Beloved, that is the greatest understatement I have heard in a long time. If I am not rejected as my father's son offhand, that would be incredible. If our great leader is not pressured into becoming the saviour of this world, that would be a miracle. But both together? My dear, you might as well wish for a star."

The brunette on the leader's other side commented, "Why would they think you to be your father's son? You are a Herald now."

The leader turned to her and answered. "Yes, dearheart. We are all Heralds, but the people of this world do not know what that means. They do not understand that a Herald cannot be anything other than honorable. They cannot even begin to comprehend the reason why it is impossible for us to be corrupt. So no matter what we say, our little Dragon will be viewed through rose-tinted glasses. Our word that he is not like that, even our sworn word as a Herald, will have no sway over these people." He turned to look at the blond man, even though he addressed the woman at his side. "He must prove himself through his actions, again and again and again."

The oldest of the group, a tall man whose dark hair had white streaks running through it, added, "Even them, Draco, some will not believe. Some will never believe."

Draco nodded. "Speaking from experience, Severus?" He asked wryly.

"Yes." Severus answered shortly. The matronly woman in green at his side touched his arm gently, and he relaxed into her touch and smiled at her.

Silence fell over the group until the brunette woman pointed up and exclaimed, "A firebird! I didn't think you had any in this world!"

The leader laughed and explained, "Dearheart, that's Fawkes. He is a Phoenix that is bonded to Dumbledore, headmaster of the school we see ahead of us. That castle is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fawkes is probably on the lookout for us. Let's see if he'll come down. Would you mind, Draco?"

The blond nodded and closed his eyes. He quickly reopened them and said, "He'll be right down. He says the Dumbledore is anxious to see you again."

"He would be!" The redhead at Draco's side swore vehemently. "With everything he's done..."

"Easy, Ginny." Draco cut into her tirade. "That's all in the past, my love. Control your temper, or you might bring the forest down around us!" He said jokingly, but his words rang with an element of warning as well. Any further discussion was cut off as Fawkes flew down to land on Draco's outstretched arm. He preened as everyone gathered around, admiring his beautiful plumage.

"You're right, beloved. This Fawkes is not like the firebirds back home. There is something more... sentient about him." The brunette remarked to the leader of the group. "He is beautiful. Draco... would he mind if I petted him?"

Draco laughed. "Not at all, Ali! He says that he like his crest to be scratched gently."

Ali reached over and gently scratched as instructed. Fawkes let out a trill and leaned into her touch. Everyone grinned as a radiant smile appeared on her face. "He makes beautiful music!"

"Yes he does. However, it is almost evening, and if we want to make it to the castle in time for dinner, we must be on our way. Draco, will he let Dumbledore know we are coming?"

Draco looked into the bird's eyes, and nodded. "Yes, he will head directly to his bonded with news of our arrival."

"Excellent. Thank you."

Draco launched Fawkes into the sky, and almost as one, the group turned to gather their horses; the leader hesitated for a brief moment, gazing upon Hogwarts.

"There were times I never thought I would make it back. Sometimes I didn't want to make it back..." He whispered. Ali came and stood next to him.

"I know, beloved. I have held you as you grieved for the injustice of it all. You, more than anyone else, have been wronged by this world and the people in it. But you also know that there is value in this world, and beauty. And you fight for that- for what little innocence still remains. You fight so that others whose innocence has not been tainted do not have to. You fight so that others do not have to live the life that you have. You fight becuase you are a Herald, and because everything within you cries out for justice."

He smiled at her. "You're right, of course. You know me better than I know myself." He looked at the others, who were already waiting for them. Their two white horses stood quietly at the bottom of the hill, awaiting their riders. "Come on, the others are waiting." He said, and gently grabbed her hand. Together they ran down the hill, smiling and laughing. They vaulted into their saddles, and guided their horses to the rest of the group.

The leader gave one last look back toward the hill, and at Hogwarts beyond it. After nearly five years, Harry Potter was finally returning to Hogwarts.


	2. And So It Begins

**Chapter One**

**Four and One Half Years Before the Prologue**

o0O0o

_I have searched for many years for my Chosen. I have felt his joy and his pain, his pride and his suffering for the last five years. I have sensed when he has needed me, and I have not been there. I have travelled the known world to find him._

_I have failed._

_It is my duty to find and to Choose. I have failed that duty, and I have failed my Chosen. Because of my failure, he has never truly been fulfilled. I have not been there to complete the bond between Herald and Companion, and so his soul is always searching for mine. Always searching, never finding._

_I have failed._

_My Chosen, the brother of my soul, has longed for me. His soul has ached to be joined to mine, as it was before we were born. I was given this knowledge (as all Companions are), so that one of each pair may know what has transpired. I knew, and still I failed._

_I have failed._

_I shall never forgive myself for those five long years that his soul has searched for mine. I shall never forget the pain in his soul as it longed to be reunited with mine. I shall never forget his tormented dreams that I could not ward off. I could sense his nightmares, oh yes... I could sense them, and they taunted me. I knew they were there, and I could do nothing to change that. I could do nothing..._

_Nothing..._

_I have failed..._

o0O0o

Two gleaming white stallions stood in a lush field, watching the rest of the herd graze around them. The observer was startled to know that these were not mere horses, but Companions- intelligent, sentient souls placed in bodies that resembled horses. Even more startling to the observer was the fact that they were talking – and he could understand them. He drifted closer, so that he could clearly hear what the two were saying.

_:Atayla returned today.: _The smaller, stockier of the two stated in a low voice as they watched a small mare enter the field. Her head was hung, her eyes focused only on the ground ahead of her; she was the very picture of dejection.

_:She has once again failed to find her Chosen.:_ The larger Companion stated calmly. The voice held an almost familiar quality; it seemed both young and old, like the wind sweeping through the mountains. It was almost other-worldly. _:This is the third time this year that she has gone out searching and returned unsuccessful. If this continues much longer… I fear for her sanity.:_

_:Rolan, she says that no matter where she goes, the pull of her soul to her Chosen's remains the same strength. There are several others who have recently voiced similar feelings. Atayla's case is, of course, the most pressing, but we must find out what is going on, and what is barring the Companions from finding their Chosen. This cannot be allowed to continue.: _The smaller one spoke fervently.

_:Yes, Kantor. I am very aware of that fact. Indeed, it holds a prevalent place in my thoughts. However, there is little we can do until one of the troubled ones receives more direction.:_

Their conversation died off as the mare in question trudged over to them. _:Rolan. I have failed again.:_

Atayla looked so miserable, Kantor could not help but comfort the poor mare. _:You have done your best, Atayla. When the time is right, you shall find your Chosen. You must have faith!:_

The mare shook her head. _:It is not just that I have not found him, though the longing in my soul is bad enough. I do believe that I will find him, either in this life or the next. However, I have made a discovery that makes the situation much more pressing. Rolan, my Chosen is mage-gifted.:_ She turned away from Kantor's support to face the Companion of the Queen's Own Herald. _:It is bad enough that our bond is not complete, but his powers are out of control. Helping him to control them is taxing even with his help, but right now he is in no condition to control anything. His soul is in torment, Rolan, and he is completely relying on me to restrain his power whether he knows it or not. This strain is slowly killing me, and if our bond is not completed soon, I will die.:_ The observer listened to the mare's calm declaration, and found his heart breaking for the plight of the mare.

With that, the mare raised her head and turned to wander off. Before she got out of range, Rolan called after her. _:Atayla, you say that you have traversed all of Valdemar?:_

The mare nodded. _:All of Valdemar, and most of Rethwellan and Karse as well. I have even been as far as Kata'shin'a'in, although I do believe I unnerved some of the residents. I have ranged all over, Rolan, and the pull has neither increased nor diminished. If I did not know any better, I would say he is not even in this world.:_ With that, she left, and the two stallions did not call her back. They shared a look that spoke volumes. Atayla's last statement had woken a thought in them, and may have been more correct than she had guessed. This was a matter to discuss with the other Herd Elders.

_:Rolan... shall I call the other elders?:_ Kantor asked quietly.

_:Please do, my friend. This may be bigger than we had first guessed.: _Rolan replied grimly.

The observer's world slowly faded into blackness as he left this realm and slowly drifted through a timeless void back to familiar locations.

At Number Four, Privet Drive, Surrey, Harry Potter awoke from the strangest dream he'd had in a long time.

o0O0o

A short distance away from the stallions, five humans watched the despondent mare make her way across the field. The shortest of the group, a slight brunette woman commented, "Rolan is worried for that mare, although he refuses to tell me why."

A tall man, with scars covering one half of his face, added, "Kantor also is concerned. He has mentioned this mare – Atayla, her name is – several times. I have seen her coming and leaving many times over these last years. Search, she does, for her Chosen, I believe."

A regal woman with a thin golden circlet in her amber hair asked, "Do you believe this is a problem that we may be able to help with, Alberich, Talia? Or is this something that the Companions must solve on their own? Talia, if an opportunity arises, let Rolan know that the Heralds stand ready to give their aid."

"As you say, Selenay. However, since Rolan is being so secretive about it, I don't know how welcome our help will be." Talia – the slight brunette woman who had first spoken – answered.

"It is better that they know we will help, even if we are not needed." A tall, willowy woman with bright blond hair stated. "We may not know what is going on, but a supportive friend is a blessing that I doubt the Companions will turn away."

"Kerowyn is right." Queen Selenay said. "It is best that they know we stand at their side, willing to aid them as they so often aid us."

"Please God that Atayla is soon healed of whatever hangs over her head." Keren, the riding instructor for all Herald-trainees, added quietly, and the others voiced prayers to their own gods for the safety and healing of the mare. With that, the group dispersed, leaving the Companions' Field quiet once more.

End Chapter.


	3. The Start of Summer

**Chapter Two**

One fine evening in June, a happy couple walked hand-in-hand along the residential streets of Surrey. Sometimes the couple talked and laughed together and at other times they stayed silent, just enjoying the other's company. As they passed a park full of children, the woman noticed a dark-haired youth sitting silent and alone on a swing amidst the joyful noise. His head was in his hands, and the woman - who had a daughter the age of the boy - could tell he was in the midst of some inner turmoil. She stopped walking to gaze on the boy. Her husband stopped next to her to see what she was looking at.

"John, look at that boy. The older one, one the tree stump, there beyond the swing set. Do you think we might be able to help him for a moment?" She asked him.

"I'm sure it's nothing, my dear… just the usual teenage angst." John Beckley tried to comfort his wife. "Let's go, Catherine; we don't even know anything about him." He raised his wife's hand to his lips and kissed it gently, and began to walk again. She let herself be led away, resolving despite her husband's words to keep an eye out for that boy.

The next day, the weather turned rainy; Catherine Beckley could find no reasonable way to convince her husband to go walking, so she had to settle herself with contemplating the boy she had seen. She didn't know why she was so strongly drawn to him, but something about him had definitely attracted her attention.

o0O0o

"That new family down the way… have you heard? Their daughter – Samantha, I think, but she goes by some ridiculous boyish name – actually slapped young Piers! He was being friendly, and you know he's such a polite boy, and she slapped him! Most teenagers these days- you never know what they're going to do; they've no respect at all!"

Harry sighed… he could tell where this conversation was going to go. Aunt Petunia was talking with one of her gossiping friends, and it wouldn't be long until she was ranting on his own 'misbehaviors.'

"Why, thank you, dear… we've tried our best with both the boys, but I've almost given up on our nephew. We've done so much for him, but he's just…" Aunt Petunia sniffed delicately, attempting to sound on the verge of tears. It was a masterful performance, Harry thought. Any chance she had, Aunt Petunia had done her very best to ruin his reputation this summer.

Harry sighed again and left the room; he needed to get away from everything… He left the house by the back door, hoping that the park would be empty.

o0O0o

Petunia Dursley sighed as she hung up the phone. Hopefully, word would get around that her nephew was dangerous – a delinquent, even. He had come back from that school of his looking worse than ever before. He was thinner than ever and he bruised easy, too; Petunia did not want anyone to see and comment on it. Vernon was a good man, she told herself… he did his best to keep the boy in line. The last thing her family needed was Child Protective Services snooping around their home.

o0O0o

It was several days later that the weather was fine enough for Catherine to convince John to go walking again. They meandered through the neighborhood until they came to the same park where Catherine had previously seen the boy. She let her eyes scan over the children as they ran around and played.

"Remember when Sammy was that small?" She asked her husband. "It doesn't seem like it's been that long."

John smiled at his wife. "I remember. She loved to do everything differently- run up the slides, stand on the swings…"

"And that terrible old biddy from next door would complain that she was a bad influence on the other kids!"

The couple laughed together and continued to watch the children play. They were about to move on when Catherine saw the same dark-haired boy from before. He was walking towards the park from the opposite side, coming towards the Beckleys. He stopped for a moment when he saw the children playing, but resumed walking. He headed toward the swing set and sat on the same swing he was on last time.

Then Catherine noticed something that worried her a bit… as soon as the other parents had seen the young teen, they had started calling their children. Within minutes, the playground was deserted and silent except for the young boy. Catherine and John looked at each other, Catherine's eyes pleading with her husband. He sighed and gave in to her unspoken request.

"At least find out his name…" He requested. Catherine smiled and stood on her tip-toes to kiss her husband's cheek.

"Thank you." She said, and hurriedly walked after one of the mothers that was herding two young children down the street towards home.

"Wait a moment!" She called after them. She jogged to catch up to them as the mother turned stopped and turned to face her. "Just who is that boy?"

The other woman's face turned sour. "That's the Potter boy, and a right delinquent he is, too. He's a bad influence, and I don't want him near my children." The woman scrutinized her closely. "You're the new family with that teenage daughter, aren't you? A word of advice to you: stay as far away from the boy as you can, and keep your daughter even farther… you never know what that boy will do!" She leered at Catherine, her meaning unmistakable.

Catherine pasted a smile on her face and politely thanked the woman. She turned to walk back to where John was still standing, puzzled. There had been nothing in the boy's body language to suggest that kind of behavior…

"He's 'the Potter boy.' She said he's some kind of delinquent and implied that he'll corrupt Sammy to his delinquent ways if we don't keep an eye on her." Catherine was worried now. The more she thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. Nothing about him – except maybe his too-large clothing – indicated a propensity for trouble-making. If anything, she would suspect abuse.

John watched the dilemma playing out over his wife's face and looked again at the boy. As an elementary teacher, he was inexperienced with dealing with teenage boys, but even to his eyes, something wasn't adding up right.

"Catherine… I think you may be right…" He said quietly. "I think he might need some help."

He reached for her hand, and they slowly made their way to where the boy was sitting.

End Chapter.


	4. Meetings

**Chapter Three**

"He misses Sirius, that much is obvious; his letters to the Order are short and to-the-point, and he's not answering any of our letters anymore. What else do we know?" Hermione Granger asked her co-conspirators as she picked up a vase and dusted the shelf where it had sat. The other four members of the group had bright red hair: Ron, Ginny, Fred and George were the youngest of the Weasleys, and they all saw the boy in question as practically family.

"Well, even when he was answering our letters, he always said he was fine, and he never mentioned anything about Sirius." Ginny said, then sneezed.

Ron snorted. "Harry's always 'fine.' No matter when you ask, he's fine. He was bitten by a sixty-foot-long poisonous snake, and half an hour later, he was 'fine.' Sorry, Ginny." Ron added when he saw his sister flinch at the mention of the basilisk.

"No, don't apologize. I'm fine." She answered, then giggled as the others shot her an amused glance. "But anyway, what are we going to do about Harry?" She sneezed again; the amount of dust still in this nasty old house was astonishing. Even after all the cleaning that had been done, there was still more work to do, and her Mum had no compunctions about using her children's idle time by sending them to clean.

"I'm not sure there's anything we can do right now." Fred turned away from the window he was washing and glanced around the rest of the group, his face unusually pensive. "Dumbledore said that he had to stay until his birthday, at least. And I'm not sure that we're asking the right question."

"I think you're right, twin o' mine." George picked up on his twin's train of thought and stopped washing his own window for a moment. "We're powerless to do anything until he gets out of that house, and the Order is already planning how to extricate him. The question we should be asking is…"

"What are we going to do when Harry gets here?" Ron finished George's sentence. "What? It's the obvious question!" He answered in response to the oddly inquisitive looks he was receiving from the group.

"Yeah, but it's usually our job…"

"To finish each others' sentences."

Fred and George stated, smiling.

Ron's ears suddenly turned to red; the rest of his face followed suit when the girls started snickering quietly. "Oh!" He huffed. "Enough of this already! We still have to figure out what we're going to do when Harry gets here!"

The group calmed their laughter and got down to business.

o0O0o

In another room at 12 Grimmauld Place, another meeting was being held concerning the same subject. Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks (but never let her hear you say her first name, or else!), and Arthur Weasley would have laughed to know that their meeting was mirroring that of the students'.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has a plan." The Weasley patriarch said. "I just wish he would share it with us. What he's putting that boy through is nothing short of mental torture, especially after the events of last month."

"You don't have to dance around the subject with me." Remus Lupin said a little sadly. "Say what you mean: since Sirius' death, Harry has been withdrawing more and more from everything and everyone."

"Half the time he's doing chores for his horrible family, and the other half he's at that park. No one talks to him. He doesn't have anyone around him who seems to care. And Professor Dumbledore's orders to us meager guards don't allow us to have any contact with the boy." Tonks expressed her disdain and frustration for those orders by changing her face to look like Dumbledore's and saying, "He needs to come to terms with his grief on his own. Give him time to process what happened." She changed her face back to her own, grimacing.

"Time is all well and good, but he needs his friends around him. He needs a support system: people to let him know they care." Remus said calmly. "However, Professor Dumbledore's orders make that impossible right now, so we need to focus on what we can do when that changes."

"The question we need to answer," Arthur proposed thoughtfully, "is: what can we do to help Harry when he gets here after his birthday."

"Indeed." Remus stated.

o0O0o

_Falling…falling…_

"_NO! Sirius!" Harry started running towards his godfather, but the harder he ran and the closer he tried to get, the farther away Sirius seemed to be. All too soon, Sirius had disappeared behind the veil, beyond Harry's reach. Harry gathered himself to leap after Sirius, but Remus suddenly appeared behind him, arms wrapped around Harry's waist._

"_No, Harry!" Remus yelled. Suddenly, his face turned hideously angry. "What were you thinking? What on Earth possessed you to come here? Oh wait, I know what possessed you: Voldemort! You let him bring you here! He called, and you came to him!"_

_Harry tried to get away, denying these accusations, but Remus had shifted his grip. Now he was holding Harry by his arms, shaking him as he yelled into his face. "You got him killed, Harry!"_

Harry was suddenly drawn out of the memory of his dream by an all-too-real hand on his arm. He violently flinched away from the touch as he was brought back to reality. He snapped his head up to look at whoever had touched him and was startled to see a middle-aged couple looking down at him concernedly.

They looked nice enough, Harry thought… the man's face was calm, and it was him who addressed Harry.

"Are you alright?" the man asked, his tone soft and utterly bland, as if he was making a remark about the sky's blueness.

Harry said nothing, but turned his gaze to the woman. Not so skilled at concealing her emotions, the woman's face was a study in sympathy and anger. She was upset about something, Harry could tell, but he didn't have the energy to put much thought into it.

"Son?" The man asked again slightly more concerned, and Harry belatedly realized he hadn't answered the man's question. He nodded his head once, remaining silent. Why had his Order guard – he assumed they were still around; he had listened to their footsteps following him to the park – let the couple come so close?

The couple glanced at each other – a look that spoke volumes – then turned to face him again. "My name's Catherine." The woman said as she got down on one knee – she was now eye-level with Harry. "This is my husband John."

As Catherine looked into the youth's eyes, she almost began to cry; his countenance was so burdened… the lines in his face wordlessly spoke of grief and sorrow. His eyes were so dull… so jaded… no child should have eyes like that.

Harry wondered…Did they expect him to respond? He thought about this, then decided it would be more trouble if he didn't answer them. Maybe if he said something, they would just go away.

"Harry." He'd said his name; maybe now they would take the hint and leave him alone. He dropped his head and pointedly began to examine the ground.

The lady – Catherine – seemed about to say something else, but her husband touched her shoulder and spoke before she could say anything. "It's nice to meet you, Harry." He seemed about to say something else, but aborted that thought. The silence grew between the three of them, an awkwardly pregnant silence. Harry thought they might leave, but they stayed right where they were.

In a rush, Catherine suddenly broke the silence and asked, "Would you like to come home to dinner with us, Harry?" John shot her a look and she fell silent, but he didn't retract his wife's offer.

Harry's eyes had snapped up to her when she had offered, his eyes suddenly less dead. Even John could see that the simple question had shocked some life into the boy.

Harry thought about it briefly. It might be nice, he thought, but the Order would never go for it – never mind his uncle.

"No." He finally said. "But thank you." He added almost as an afterthought.

"Alright, Harry." Catherine stood up. "Maybe we'll see you again."

Not likely, Harry thought as he watched the couple walk off.

End Chapter.


	5. A Mystery and Trust Issues

**Chapter Four**

_A gleaming white horse reared up onto her hind legs, threatening to strike out with her forelegs. Silver hooves flashed. As soon as the mare dropped down from the rear, she began to buck and kick out. Her teeth snapped at anyone who came close enough._

"_Mira!" He called with both voice and mind. "Stop it!" He tried to yell at the men threatening her. "You're hurting her! You promised you wouldn't hurt her!" The mare still fought the men around her. The dark-haired youth prepared to run to her aid._

_Suddenly, the man closest to him – the only one not actively fighting with the mare – grabbed his arm. "You belong to me now, boy. What's yours is mine…" He smiled nastily. "Including that pretty little mare you've got there… she should fetch a might hefty price from the right buyer!"_

"_Mira, run!" The youth screamed at the mare, now afraid for her more than anything else, but with an angry shake of her head, the mare refused. One of the men somehow got a rope around the mare's neck, then another man succeeded in doing the same. It took two men on each rope to subdue the mare, who fought the whole time._

_The youth struggled against the man holding his arm. "Why are you doing this?" He sobbed brokenly._

"_Why?" The man repeated the question, then started laughing. "I do it because I can! I make good money, y'know!" He suddenly backhanded the boy, who went still. "Now shut your trap! You're almost a man; act like one!"_

_The men wrestled the mare into a small pen. _

"_What's the damage?" The man holding the boy asked once she was contained._

_One of the men turned and answered. "Well, Chief, we got a few good bumps and bruises. Derrik reckons his shoulder's dislocated, and fer sure Logan's foot is broke. Probably a couple other broken fingers, some strained muscles. Give us a few days and we'll all be good enough to do 'nother job."_

_The man in charge nodded. "You've got three days. Come back then, and we'll see if the mare's calm enough to be broke. As much as it'd be a pain to lose the income from this beauty, if it can't be handled, it'll have to be put down. No sense letting it injure my men."_

_The underling nodded and went to carry the news to the rest of the working crew. The Chief – gripping the youth's arm even tighter – dragged the boy towards a car. He shoved the boy in first, then climbed in after him. He knocked once on the window, and the vehicle began to move off._

Gasping, a man sat up in his bed. "Why?" he whispered hoarsely. "Why do these visions torment me?"

The man rose from his bed, slipped slippers onto his feet to protect them from the cold stone floor, and walked slowly into an adjacent bathroom. He wetted a wash towel and began to rinse the sweat off of his face and neck – a full shower would wait for later. As he looked into the mirror hanging on the wall, he again wondered _Why?_ _And Why does that boy look… _he hesitated, not sure he actually wanted to make the thought a reality, but his mind continued heedlessly: …_like me…_

o0O0o

A few evenings later, Catherine and John Beckley walked arm-in-arm through Surrey. They had seen and talked to Harry every night since that first meeting, and the dark-haired boy was slowly warming up to them. Each time they saw the boy, the couple made a point to invite him to dinner; he had declined every time, but less firmly with each repetition.

They reached the park where they met Harry each night, but – to their dismay – the youth was not yet there. Other than waiting for him in the park, the couple had no way to reach him, so they decided to wait. They sat on a bench and quietly discussed the young man they were increasingly drawn to. Their patience was soon rewarded and they got to their feet as Harry approached them. As he drew nearer to them, however, they could tell that something was wrong.

o0O0o

Harry walked toward the couple he was - against his will - somehow growing fond of. They had spoken often of their daughter, although he had never met her, and they were starting to talk to him with that same sort of affection in their voice. He didn't want to lose that, and he knew that his decision to meet them tonight - despite his current appearance - would either make or break this new relationship.

_I don't even know why I care..._ Harry thought. _It's not like I'll be here much longer anyway... and besides, I'm putting them in danger. They're just going to get killed..._

Nevertheless, Harry kept up his slow walk towards the Beckleys. He made sure that they wouldn't be able to see it until he was much closer... He had that much dignity left, at least...

o0O0o

Harry ceased his approach just a few feet from the Beckleys. They couldn't see his face; it was almost as though he was ashamed about something. For sure, he was trying to hide something.

A few seconds after Harry stopped moving toward them, Catherine stepped forward. It was something odd that John had noticed about Harry: the boy never initiated any contact. In fact, more than once, he had deliberately moved to avoid contact. In any case, he seemed to accept small gestures of affection only sparingly: the occasional hand on the shoulder, a rub on the head, even a handshake seemed to make Harry slightly uncomfortable.

As Catherine approached, Harry stood still. His hands were hanging by his sides and his face was downcast. Catherine touched two fingers to his chin, and Harry resisted only a brief moment before lifting his head. As soon as his face was visible in the light, Catherine gasped, and John could clearly see why.

Harry's right eye was bruised and swollen; already it was turning pretty colors.

Harry looked up at John and Catherine's faces; he saw the anger and disgust that filled their faces, and turned to go. He flinched away as a small hand on his arm stopped him. "Harry?" Catherine asked, her voice tender, yet firm. It was very clear what she was asking about, even though he hadn't turned back around to face them.

_They're disgusted by me… and they should be. I was too weak; I couldn't even take care of myself. How am I supposed to save anyone if I can't even handle a muggle?_

"Harry, what happened?" John added his own soft – dangerously soft – voice. The anger he felt welling up in him surprised him; he was normally much more in control of his feelings. But… over the last few days, as they had gotten to know Harry better, John had seen several signs that things were… not right at Harry's home. He hesitated to call it abuse; he had no proof. But if someone had hurt this boy, this child that he was starting to care for… He didn't know if he wanted to know, but he had to ask…

"Harry, did… someone… hit you?" He asked gently. His wife turned to look at him briefly, her eyes widening slightly. He knew that she was processing through the small details she had noticed, to see if she would come to the same conclusion.

In the meantime, Harry looked startled momentarily, then dropped his gaze. Instead of answering the question, he asked, "Why?"

At John's rather blank look, Harry elaborated, "Why do you care?"

John had to stop a moment; he could tell that Harry needed a serious answer to his question. Finally he said, "What's not to care for?" He continued before Harry could interrupt. "You're a kind, quiet young man. You're polite and honest. You mean what you say. And in the few days that I have known you, I have never once heard you complain or try to take advantage of our generosity." He paused a moment to gather the rest of his thoughts, and Catherine jumped in.

"You have a reputation for delinquency, but we have never seen or heard anything from you that would contribute to that reputation. You're lonely, and while you may be troubled, you are not trouble." She said, her eyes intense, trying to help Harry understand what she was trying to say.

John finished for the couple, "We may not have known you for long, Harry, but what we have seen has given us no inclination to run off… indeed, all that we have seen has encouraged us to get to know you better."

Harry nodded, his face pensive as he processed their answers. The question that John had started out with – _Why not? _– startled him… he couldn't tell them the first thought that popped into his head – _I'll only get you killed…_ and he couldn't think of anything else he could tell them that they would accept.

"No." He said. The couple looked at him quizzically. "The answer to your question. At least, not the way you mean." _Not this time. _He added privately to himself.

John and Catherine frowned and looked at each other, and silently agreed not to press the boy. If there was anything else he wanted to tell them, he would, and they wouldn't be able to gain his trust if they pushed him too hard, too soon.

They talked for a while about inconsequential things. Then, as always, the Beckley couple invited Harry to dinner at their house. They were surprised when, tonight, Harry actually seemed to seriously consider their offer. "Okay." He said after a few moments, surprising the two further.

The smiling couple led Harry toward their house, pleased with the progress they had made tonight with the boy. Their silent, invisible observer, however, was not so pleased… He had to report this to Dumbledore!


End file.
